


Calamity

by izuruthemad



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, Hinata Hajime & Kamukura Izuru Share a Body Simultaneously, Hinata gets his feelings out, Love Letters, M/M, this is my first KomaHina fic bye
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-08
Updated: 2018-06-08
Packaged: 2019-05-19 08:55:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14870693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/izuruthemad/pseuds/izuruthemad
Summary: Nagito finds a love letter on his bedside table.





	Calamity

**Author's Note:**

> ooof i've wanted to write this for a while, i think i might also write a character-study-esque izuru piece because cursed kin

Yawn and bear another day.

A mantra repeated every time he wakes. Keep going, keep going, keep going.

He looks to his right and finds a paper he swore he didn't put there. What happened yesterday? He remembers, _Kamukura-kun_   doing routine checks on his mechanical arm and _Hinata-kun_ in his room, laughing, talking over drinks. He'd fallen asleep carelessly before he left. It was nice.

He didn't remember a paper; had he stayed longer? He couldn't bear the thought.  _Hinata-kun_ bearing with trash like him is just... absurd! Presumptuous! Unthinkable! 

But then yet again, he'd stayed and talked anyways. The memory was sweet on his tongue.

They were rather close now, weren't they? He always seemed to enjoy talking to him.

He leaned and lightly picked up the paper on his bedside table.

* * *

_Nagito,_

_I've wanted to write this for a while, but I couldn't find the words. I caved eventually and got Izuru's help. The words might be his, but the meaning is from both of us._

_I've... been enjoying my time with you as of late, more than you think I do. Every time you leave, I can't help but watch you go, wishing you'd stay longer. Every time you fall asleep in front of me, I linger, and fight the urge to stroke your hair._

_The way you talk is magical, honestly. Your ability to make words into an intricate picture is alluring and draws me in ever closer. If you wanted, you could write poetry out of your dexterous wordplay that could rival even Fukawa's or Izuru's works. You're kind and polite, and when you overstep your bounds, you apologize quickly, and you try so hard to learn from your mistakes. You were the first friend I made in the program, and Izuru tells me you were also the first friend he made on the boat._

_Not to mention you're beautiful. God, you are. Your hair is almost like a cloud, and I almost fear that if I touch it, it'll dissipate just like one. If you look close enough, you can see the pinkish roots coming back in, proving you're becoming healthy again, thanks to Izuru's and my minstrations over the last year. I've noted your eyelashes are white, too, and when the light hits them the right way, they shine as they flutter with each blink, like butterflies, shadowing your eyes, which I love just as much. Even with your scars, which, in my opinion, add to your beauty, your skin is smooth and fair like a china doll (and it might be poor form, but I'd honestly like to add my own marks to it, if you get what i'm saying.)_

_(Izuru's screaming bloody murder at me for that one. "Hajime, do you even know what the word 'tact' means? Do you think only with your reproductive organs? You're trying to woo someone here, not chase them off. God." Joke's on him, it's in pen.)_

_And yet, you seem to think you're not worth it. You apologize for every little thing you do, for every little advance I make. You constantly berate yourself and call yourself horrible things. Back in the program, you kept on insisting that I should kill you for my own gain. (I never wanted to, Nagito. You might not have minded, but it would've torn me up if I actually did it. It tore me up inside every time you offered.) You kept painting yourself as worse a person than you actually are, and I can't fucking understand why._

_You shouldn't be so rough on yourself. I want to somehow convince you of this, but I don't know how to fucking do it._

_You're a beautiful disaster, a calamity. Your words, whether sweet or sinister, tie me up in bounds and before I know it I cannot break free. I don't know if I ever wanted to break free. I'm scared and confused, but also enthralled by your rambling on about hope, despair, beauty, talent. You say crazy things, and I can't help but agree with them just because it's you. You and your voice and your hair and your eyes are all so stunning, and yet when you look in the mirror, all you see is garbage. Where I see a priceless gem, all you see is a dirty river stepping stone._

_I know I can't just fix it all with a love letter. However, I can at least tell you that I care. Make written fucking proof that there is someone out there who gives a damn. Make words that I am responsible for, in written format, unerasable and physical. Spoken words can be ignored, twisted, forgotten. Written word is a promise and a contract._

_I love you, damnit. I love you, Izuru loves you (even though he won't admit it), we both do. I just want you to realize that somebody can._

_You might be a calamity, but I'm ready to face any storm._

_-Hajime Hinata_

* * *

On the porch of a cabin, two young men sat on a loveseat, hands intertwined. 

In the brunette's other hand was a post-it-note.

_I love you too, Hinata-kun._

_-Nagito Komaeda._


End file.
